Anna Wickham
by alimison
Summary: This story is set sometime after the conclusion of Pride and Prejudice, when Lydia Wickham has a large family and is having problems with her nerves. Luckily for Lydia, 18 year old Anna and 12 year old Oliver are about to be invited to stay at Pemberley.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

_To my dearest sister Elizabeth,_

_How are you? It has been a long time since I writ you, I know, for which I am sorry, and all that. I think you must be very happy at Pemberley this season, as I hear the weather is peculiarly fine in Derbyshire this winter, and that Mr Darcy's business has gone well. We are still all in Bristol, and feeling the ill effects of it. My cough has grown worse since I last wrote and I am very much afraid that my back is growing worse, without the benefit of a good physician, which we cannot afford. The children are all at home excepting George and Hugh. You will have heard, of course, that George has joined the Regulars; Hugh would like to study law, but he is at present too busy with his friends in Newcastle. Having seven children at home without much hired help is not an easy task, and I feel my nerves worsening every day. My dear husband is much occupied with business and we cannot afford to give the children much chance of making their way in the world. Catherine, at least, has caught the eye of an elderly widower called Reeves, although for a time she was being unaccountably silly about marrying him, until we told her exactly how much he is worth. She is a very pretty girl, and the old man is sure to die soon, so I am convinced she has made the right decision. The happy event will take place in three weeks. I am so happy to be having a daughter married well. Anna, however, is a great worry to me. She is becoming too much a bluestocking, although not as bad as our poor Mary was, and I am sorry to say she is encouraged in this by her brother Oliver, who _will_ insist on being ridiculously scholarly. She is also extremely fussy in her choice of men. She is aged eighteen and has already received two eligible offers, but she refused them, merely defending herself by saying she did not like them well enough to marry them. I am worried about her, sister; I do not scruple to say it._

"Mama!" came a scream from downstairs. "Charles has taken my blue ribbons and he won't give them back!"

Lydia Wickham put her pen down. "Oh, stop complaining, Esther!" she shrieked, as another girl walked into the room. "Charles, give your sister her ribbons! Catherine, where is Anna?"

"_I_ don't know!" said Catherine. "She waltzes round in her own world and doesn't pay the least attention to anyone! I am sick of her!"

Her mother sighed. "The silly girl will not listen to good advice. She has been cutting Mr Oates, who has been paying her the most flattering attentions."

Catherine sighed. "Well, when I am married, you must send her to me in London. I will find her a husband, never fear."

"Mama, where is my atlas?" asked Oliver, rifling through a pile of his books.

"Lord, how should _I_ know?" his mother replied in disbelief.

Oliver raised a pair of clear blue eyes to hers. "Well, you may have seen it somewhere," he said calmly.

"I _never_ see books," said his mother firmly, and gave a little shriek. "Mark! Imogen! What do you think you're doing?!"

The twins looked up innocently from where they sat quietly in a corner with a big pair of scissors. "I am cutting Imogen's hair, Mama," explained Mark.

Lydia Wickham stamped her foot. "Oh, you'll be the death of me, you two!" She sank into a chair. "You naughty, naughty children! Can't you just behave?"

"Well, Mama, you said I needed a haircut," Imogen replied solemnly. "We thought we would be _helping_ you."

"Oh, run away this instant!" cried Lydia, mopping her brow. "When will my husband be home? Where _is_ Anna?"

-----------------------

At that very moment, the two missing members of the Wickham family were engaged rather differently. George Wickham senior, patriarch of the Wickham family, was entertaining a young aspiring opera dancer called Sarah Jones who went by the stage name of Posy Wilde. But we do not need to elaborate on the details of _that_ meeting. Anna Wickham was also engaging in an affair that she did not propose to inform her mother of, but of a rather more innocent tenor than her father's. Anna had climbed up into the attic with a mug of coffee and was sitting in the old armchair by the only little window in the room, writing in a large book she called Myrtle—her diary.

_Dear Myrtle, April 5_

_Catherine has agreed to marry Mr R. since I last wrote. I own I am surprised at her. Catherine has always been driven by money but from the start she had conceived such a dislike of Mr R. that I am astonished she changed her mind. I do not wish to judge her for I am aware as anyone of what need the family stands in, and she is not a girl who is created to bear poverty well. But I think that is the kindest thing I can say. Catherine's whole justification for her marriage is that he is rich and will die soon, but can she feel satisfied with such a marriage? I am sure she cannot. I feel terrible saying such things of my own poor sister. I am glad, though, that I have a friend to whom I can write of anything I like—dear Myrtle! I can only add, I suppose, that this unfortunate affair has only had the effect of steeling my resolve never to marry for comfort alone._

_Mr O. has been trying to make up to me again. I have to exercise the greatest care whenever I leave the house in case he is lurking about outside, or in the park. Do not judge me for despising his attentions, dear Myrtle; he is old enough to be my father and his wife has been dead hardly a month. I think ill enough of his character even to be unsure whether his intentions are honourable or no. If I misjudge him, then I am sorry. But I am even more sorry that I have been 'blessed' with a nice enough figure and fetching enough features that horrid old men think I will be honoured by their attentions. If only Papa would… well, I will not talk of Papa._

_Mama is, of course, delighted at the prospect of a daughter married, and, not least, a daughter married 'successfully'—at least, that is how she terms it. I must sympathise, in all fairness; it is not easy being burdened with four daughters and five sons. Mama is very nervy still, however. I am afraid the younger ones grate on her somewhat; they are all very boisterous, except Oliver, of course. Charles is constantly causing havoc on purpose (it is time her grew up; he is already aged fourteen), and Mark and Imogen solemnly cause havoc because they think they are being helpful. Esther turned fifteen last week (I gave her some embroidered handkerchiefs. I am afraid she did not like them very much but it was all I could manage). She thinks she is now an adult, and she flirts audaciously with George's officer friends whenever he brings them home with him. George is a dear but I wish he would be a little more careful where his sisters are concerned. I am terribly worried about Esther._

_Of course, I am even more worried about Oliver. I have known for some time that Oliver must have a proper education. He is only twelve and he has only studied with Mr Marsh, the churchwarden, but he shows a marked propensity for almost every type of study, and I wish, oh I wish, Mama would take him seriously. Papa, of course, is hardly at home, or if he is, he gives Mark and Imogen a horse-back ride or two, and then ignores the rest of us, especially Oliver, whose brightness scares him, I think. I have been thinking and thinking but I cannot see a way for Oliver's education to be contrived. He was given the few books he has by kind Mr Marsh, but beyond that he has no means whatever. I shall have to think some more._

_What we need is a Benefactor. A Fairy Godmother. Something of that kind. I shall have to see if they are available these days._

_I had better run away before Mama notices I am gone for too long. Dear Myrtle, how you help me!_

_Anna Wickham_

Anna climbed down from the attic surreptitiously, checking no one was around to discover her favourite writing-place. She met Mark and Imogen on the stairs, looking glum. "Oh, Imogen, what have you been doing?" sighed Anna, threading her hands through her youngest sister's thick blonde hair, now looking sadly ragged.

"I cut it!" said Mark eagerly. "But Mama didn't like it."

"I shouldn't wonder," said Anna, giving him a reluctant smile. "Come with me, Imogen. I will cut it for you properly."

Imogen eyed her worriedly. "Are you sure? Don't let Mark help."

Anna laughed now. "You have my word. Come on."

Downstairs, as Esther and Catherine fought over the basket of ribbons and Charles taunted them from the sidelines, Lydia Wickham finished her letter to her sister in a hurry, and sent it off to be posted. One could never neglect one's rich relatives, even on the most fragile of hopes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It was a sunny spring Saturday when Catherine was married. Anna and Esther were bridesmaids. Despite herself, Anna felt almost happy about Catherine's marriage when she put on her new gown for the occasion, paid for by Mr Reeves; undoubtedly money was not to be scoffed at in choosing a husband. Lydia Wickham had made her husband promise not to drink too much at the wedding breakfast, and all her children were well presented and behaved, on threat of awful punishment, on such an important day.

The groom's family looked rather less pleased with themselves than Mrs Wickham. His two daughters, Mrs Claridge and Mrs Peabody, were fifteen or so years older than Catherine, and they and their husbands had been counting on a full inheritance from their rich father. Their greatest fear would be that Catherine Wickham should produce an heir, and then where would they be? Indeed, they had made their opinion of the matter quite clear to their aged father, until he had made his intentions quite clear—that if they were to oppose his desires in this way they would get nothing whatever when he was dead and buried. There was no choice. The Claridges and Peabodys had to submit with the appearance of a good grace.

As Anna watched the ceremony being performed, watched the people watching it, and watched her sister, she felt an irrepressible sense of gloom come over her. Her pretty dress meant nothing to her now. Her sister was standing there, calmly, reciting her wedding vows without even a hint of feeling. She could not have asked her to look joyful, but surely even Catherine could not overcome disgusted feelings so easily which earlier she had assured her parents were so insuperable? It was all for money, Anna supposed, and wanted to cry.

Maybe she had misjudged her sister. Maybe Catherine was just being brave, sacrificing her own interests for that of her family's. Anna resolved to think of her sister in this way, and when she embraced the newly-married Mrs Reeves, she was touched to sense a hint of a warmer embrace than the sisters had been used to. She went home not happy, but not unhappy either. She would write to Catherine on her honeymoon, she decided.

As Mr Wickham settled down on the sopha with a glass of brandy, and as the children were put to bed by Esther, their maid came in. "Ma'am?" She hesitated at the door.

"Yes, Sukey?"

"This came in the post today. It is for you."

Mrs Wickham jumped out of her chair, forgetting her languid pose. "Give it here. Ah, yes, it is as I expected—it is from my sister Elizabeth."

Mr Wickham grunted. Anna looked up from the periodical she was reading.

"Oh?"

Mrs Wickham was scanning it hurriedly. "Ladida… John is unwell… Darcy's business is taking him to Cornwall for next week… Isobel has refused an offer of marriage—silly girl, she'll soon be on the shelf… Aha!" She read quietly for a few moments, before letting out an almighty shriek just as Esther re-entered the parlour.

"My dear, please," mumbled her husband.

"What is it, Mama?" asked Anna, as Esther began angrily spouting forth on the evils of small children.

"How very odd, to be sure, how very odd," said Mrs Wickham, "but how wonderful! Anna, you are a lucky girl. I shall read this to you. Husband, you should listen." Wickham put down his glass and sat up, interested despite himself.

" 'Dear sister', she writes. I will simply read from the part that will interest you. 'Lydia, my husband and I have been talking very much about the letter you sent to me several weeks ago. We pass on our congratulations to Catherine, of course, but our thoughts have been engaged mainly in quite another quarter. As Ernest is living mostly in town now and Isobel is shortly to visit a married friend from school for some time, we would like to invite Anna and Oliver to live with us for some months—perhaps at least three, and if it is amenable to all, perhaps longer. We know that Oliver would like to undertake more schooling, and we have a well-credentialed tutor currently educating John, who would be most happy to take on another student. Anna has always been good friends with Elinor, when together, and I know they wrote to each other for some time, and so we thought she might also like to stay. Our sister Kitty, who, as you know, is still living nearby, would also be very pleased to see her niece and nephew, and have them meet her children. I hope you will give this due consideration and reply to us as soon as possible; of course if either Anna or Oliver would prefer to stay in Bristol, there is no offence taken. But please tell them we would love to have them with us! Hoping you are well, yours et cetera.' "

Anna was quiet for a moment, but before she could ask if her aunt was serious, Esther broke into noise. "It's not fair! Why should I not be asked to Pemberley? I have just as much right as Oliver, and I could be a friend to John, for he is my age, but Elinor is a _year older _than Anna!"

"Esther, don't be foolish, of course you cannot go," said Mrs Wickham firmly. "I need you here, for one thing, but Anna is of no use to any one and I must say that Oliver needs an education! Of course you will go, my dear Anna." She smiled at her daughter kindly, alleviating the sting of her prior words, but still Anna was quite, quite speechless.

"Well, I think it a very good scheme," said Mr Wickham, getting up off his sopha. "My dear, I am going to bed."

"Oh! yes, I will come soon, George. Now, Anna, you may run upstairs and tell your brother the good news. I suppose I will write back to my sister tomorrow, express, and then we may be able to send you off within a few weeks! How exciting for you! I suppose my sister will buy you new gowns, and she may even give a ball for you!"

Esther stamped her foot with a sob, and rushed off to the bedroom she now had to herself, vacated by Catherine. Anna gave herself a shake, and replied. "I must not expect too much, Mama, I am sure."

"Why should you not? I'm sure it's the least she can do!" cried Mrs Wickham. She gave her daughter a rare embrace. "Now, you must be as sociable as possible, and try to endear them to you, or you will be back here within a month, and that will never do. Will you do your best?"

"Yes, Mama," said Anna dutifully, but her mind was already on Pemberley. She had only been there once before, but the memory lingered as a dream might. It had been the only time she met her cousins, aunt and uncle before. She gathered there was something between her father and uncle that was not comfortable, so she had never expected more, but the one time her mother took them into the country, before Mark and Imogen were born, had remained with her as a vision of beauty, friendship and amusement. She could hardly believe she was returning, after such an absence—ten years? Eleven? It mattered not. She ran up the stairs and into Oliver and Charles' room.

"Oliver!" She shook him. "Oliver!"

Charles woke up first. "Anna, what are you doing in our room? Ought a delicately brought-up girl behave in this manner?"

She rolled her eyes at him and poked Oliver again. "Oliver!"

Oliver groaned. "What _is_ it?!" He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Oliver, do you or do you not want to study more?"

"Is this relevant?"

"Yes or no."

"Yes, I want to study more."

Anna beamed. "You and I are invited to go to live at Pemberley for three months or maybe even more! You can share John's tutor!"

"Is this true?" demanded Charles.

"Really?" asked Oliver.

"It is real and true as I sit before you. Mama just got the letter from our aunt Darcy."

"My word!" said Oliver. He grinned at Anna. "Well, when are we to go?"

"In a few weeks," she said, smiling back. "But I must go to bed now, I am _so_ tired! Goodnight, Oliver. Goodnight, Charles."

"I shouldn't wish to go to Pemberley anyway," said Charles, unconvincingly.

-----------------------------------------------

Charles and Esther were still sulking when it came time for Anna and Oliver to leave, in two weeks time. Mr Darcy sent his own carriage to transport them to Pemberley, and they were accordingly standing outside making their farewells. They had been obliged to farewell their father at breakfast, as he had business in town, but Mrs Wickham and the other four children were there. Lydia Wickham was talking nineteen to the dozen, full of advice and cautionings, while Charles and Esther stood with their arms folded, giving their luckier sister and brother rather perfunctory embraces. Anna found it hardest to say goodbye to Mark and Imogen, who stood regarding their sister solemnly as always, Mark with a firmly serious face and Imogen with a trembling lower lip.

"How long is three months, Anna?" asked Imogen quietly.

Anna enfolded her smallest sister in her arms. "Three months is about thirteen or fourteen weeks, Imogen, and that is about ninety sleeps."

"Ninety!" cried Mark.

Anna gave him a hug also. "We may be away for even longer. I will miss you both very much. Will you write to me?"

"Yes," they both promised, and they gave Oliver hugs too.

Oliver hoisted his final box into the back of the carriage, and they climbed aboard. "Goodbye," said Anna, trying to smile.

"Goodbye, my dears," smiled their mother cheerfully. "Remember, do not refuse _anything_ that is offered to you. We must make the most of your stay. Oliver, do not return a bearded scholar entirely, I beg you. Off you go, coachman."

Anna and Oliver hung out the carriage window, waving, and then they could see no more, and sat back down. "Well!" said Oliver. "I have an excellent puzzle for us to do on the journey, and John Stokes gave me some riddles."

But Anna was wiping her eyes. "I don't feel equal to it quite yet, Oliver," she said.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, bemused. "I am sure you will not miss home."

"I will miss the little ones," she said, putting away her handkerchief, before remembering the impropriety of such a statement. "And of course I will miss Mama and Papa too, and Esther and Charles."

"Fiddle," said Oliver impatiently. "I grant you, Mark and Imogen are worth missing."

"I hope you will not speak like that at Pemberley, and disgrace us!" cried Anna, but she was laughing now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Well, well," said Mr Darcy, patting his wife's shoulder to show how completely he understood her feelings on the occasion of her eldest daughter's leaving home. "You must remember, my love, that at least she is not marrying Mr Astley."

Elizabeth chuckled irrepressibly despite her gloominess. "You are right, William, of course. How I do hate you being right!"

He smiled. "Isobel will be perfectly fine at Mrs Eathorne's. You have known Sally from a girl; she is a flibbertigibbet but she has plenty of sense, and she will look after our little girl. Besides, our little girl is now two and twenty."

"Yes, _and_ her brother has been away these three years in the main without my spending a single minute in worry. How embarrassed I feel! Ernest is so perfectly able to look after himself; Isobel must be much the same."

He made a little grimace. "Well, my love, Isobel is, I have to admit, a lot more strong-willed than Ernest has ever given us credit to believe. But I repeat, Sally Eathorne will manage her well. She knows Isobel's temperament. Her husband, too, seems a respectable and sensible man."

"I am afraid it is all my own fault that Isobel is so independent, William. She has inherited all my most disconcerting qualities, while Ernest has inherited your best. I speak from partiality for both of them, I suppose. Who could ever have supposed twins to be so different?—and yet they are very alike, in many ways. How long ago it seems since they were born!"

Mr Darcy reached over and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about Isobel. She promised me to be thoughtful in all her actions and to remember always that she was a Darcy of Pemberley, without any prompting from me."

Elizabeth giggled. "You were not fooled by that, I hope, William?"

A rare laugh escaped him. "No, but I should have been more worried _had_ she been serious. As iron-willed as Isobel is, she really does know how to look after herself, Elizabeth. You need not worry. Besides, I know Ernest is planning to visit her at some point, and he will look out for her, for certain."

Elizabeth sighed. "You are always right. It is most aggravating. I suppose it will be Christopher's turn to leave home next—he is twenty now—and I will have to worry all over again and you will aggravate me all over again."

"Well, at the very least, you will have two visitors soon to distract you from my aggravating ways."

"Anna and Oliver!" cried Elizabeth. "I had almost forgotten them. They must be arriving very soon. They cannot be two hours away. I do hope they will be as we expect."

"I suppose we must feel a little anxious on the subject, my love, but I am almost perfectly assured they will be charming children. Anna was quite the sweetest and most charming child at age eight, from my personal recollection, and you have formed your own opinion of her from your sister's correspondence, have you not?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I confess it, I have. It is not pleasant to criticise one's own sister in such a way, but I do feel that a sweet girl like Anna, who seems to be boding so well to become such a worthwhile human being, should _not_ be left to be influenced by men such as my brother-in-law. And Oliver! who is, apparently, bidding fair to become quite a notable scholar someday, being described as 'ridiculously scholarly'! As soon as I heard that I knew something had to be done. I do not expect them to be perfect, William. I would not wish it so. One feels so odious wanting them to be 'presentable', as Lady Catherine might have said. But for their own sakes, it is important."

Mr Darcy patted her shoulder again. "My love, here you are worrying again. It is not like you. You know that Elinor thinks very highly of Anna, through their correspondence of old, and she is not a girl without discernment, as you well know."

"No, Elinor has plenty of _that._ I am so glad she will be able to help Anna feel more comfortable."

"And John, although he is three years older than Oliver, will be able to make her brother comfortable too. Although I feel I am much mistaken if he is not just as outgoing and cheerful as any lad of his age."

"You are right, and for once I am glad to know it." Elizabeth, laughing, got up, and called her second daughter. "Elinor! Have the maids done with Anna's bedchamber?"

Elinor came tripping down the marble staircase, a girl of nineteen with very dark hair and soft brown eyes. "I beg your pardon, Mama?"

"Are the maids finished with Anna's room?"

"Oh yes, hours ago."

"Good. I wonder, would you like to go with me to pick some flowers for it? I do so want to make Anna feel welcome."

"Of course, Mama."

As they walked through the gardens, each with a basket under their arm, Elinor turned to her mother. "Mama, I hope Anna will like me. Ten years is a long time, even though we wrote for a few years."

Elizabeth pretended she had not been worrying about exactly the same thing moments before. "Elinor, you have nothing to worry about. It is impossible that Anna should dislike you! People do not change so much in ten years. She may be a little overwhelmed at first; in fact, I am sure she will be, but your presence, and Christopher's, will make things a lot easier for her."

Elinor giggled. "I doubt if Christopher's will. She probably remembers him as the horrid little boy who pulled her hair the one time they came here. She mentioned him several times in her letters without much love."

Elizabeth had to laugh, although, as she said fervently, "I do hope she has forgotten that!"

"Oh, I'm sure she has! At least Ernest is not here, for she tumbled into love with him when she was eight, I seem to remember, and that would complicate matters greatly, don't you agree?"

Elizabeth laughed again. "Poor Ernest! He _will_ insist on being so kind to small girls and he is so very handsome and like a knight in shining armour that of course that sort of thing is bound to embarrass him every now and then!" She recollected herself. "Come, we must go back to the house, or we will never arrange these in time. They must be due here in under an hour."

--------

In the event of the carriage actually driving the final feet towards the house, for all the sensible protestations of the Darcys regarding the certainty of their cousins' respectability, almost all stood anxious, waiting for the first glimpse of the two people who were to live with them the next three months, or perhaps more.

Anna and Oliver themselves could scarcely be less worried than their richer cousins. Admittedly, Oliver was not quite so much of a worrying frame of mind as Anna. For Oliver, the promise of good instruction and a lack of Charles was quite enough to ensure his satisfaction with the months ahead, but even he could not feel quite easy about meeting these people for the first time. Anna herself was gradually shrinking into her corner, with her fingernails at her teeth, almost ready to bite, if she had not trained herself out of the habit years before. Oliver's puzzles and riddles had fallen flat as they began drawing into regions close to Pemberley. They each suffered a severe shock when the coachman poked in his head at a refreshment stop and told them this was the only inn left before they came to Pemberley. It was worse as they left the environs of Lambton and he shouted down to them that they were now in the grounds of Pemberley. Expecting almost immediately to arrive at the house, it by no means decreased their apprehension when they found it took rather a longer time than expected to drive through the grounds of Pemberley. It was at this point that Oliver swallowed and said, "Do you think they will be _very_ grand, Anna?"

"No, no!" she blustered.

It was infinitely the worst moment when they actually entered through the big, majestic gates, and saw the house for the first time. "Oh, Lord," said Oliver, and sat back in his seat looking a little green.

Anna felt called upon to be brave. "Don't be anxious, Oliver. You must remember that our aunt Darcy is Mama's sister."

They said nothing else, and the carriage finally drew up by the huge front entrance. Anna plucked up her courage as the coachman sprang down and opened the door for them, and took her first step outside.

She saw a tall, distinguished man who was not smiling in any physical form but seemed to be smiling by spirit, with his arm in the arm of a woman with thick brown hair streaked with grey, and bright, discerning eyes and a warm smile. Next to her stood a girl with hesitant but kindly eyes, who was very pretty and who must, of course, be her cousin Elinor. To the left of his father stood an awkward looking youth who had to be John, and who seemed to be at the age in which every aspect of a person is catching up with another aspect. Smiling broadly with his hand on John's shoulder was a young man with light brown hair and vividly blue eyes. Cousin Christopher. Of course. How could she have forgotten him? She hoped with a small gleam of amusement that he did not still pull hair.

Climbing out, Oliver came behind her and they stood before the Darcys. _That_ family saw a young lady who had once been an unwieldy child of eight. Now, she was a handsome girl on the verge of womanhood, with bright fair hair. Her gaze was shy but candid, and she had a light figure which she held up unconsciously well. Her brother was also of a small build, with sandy hair and a thoughtful look, though he had fine dimples. He was clutching a bag of books and looking at his relations with curiosity.

Elizabeth moved forward impulsively. "It gives me great pleasure to welcome you, my dears. I am your aunt Elizabeth."

They smiled good afternoon and said how happy they were, and their aunt introduced them to their cousins, and then to their uncle. "Now, you must be very tired from your long journey, I am sure," said their aunt, trying not to bustle but finding it difficult. "Elinor, will you show Anna to her bedchamber? Oliver, John and I will help you find yours."

Anna smiled impulsively at her cousin, who smiled back just as happily. "Thank you very much, cousin Elinor."

Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged a glance of pleasure. Their niece was well-spoken, with a soft, genteel voice that owed nothing to the influence of Lydia Wickham.

John and Oliver were already walking towards the stairs. "You must come and see the library later, and the stables," John was saying, and Anna was pleased to catch a glimpse of her brother's beam in response.

"I hope your journey was comfortable?" said Mr Darcy politely to Anna.

"Oh! yes, sir!" she exclaimed. "I forgot to thank you most particularly for the use of your carriage. We were most comfortable."

He smiled, this time in both body and spirit. "I am very pleased for it. I hope you will feel very welcome here."

"I am sure we will," said Anna, and she turned with Elinor to go.

"Wait, cousin!" came a voice. They turned to see Christopher leaning against the entrance wall with a smile on his face. "You have not let me pull your hair yet, cousin Anna."

A smile appeared on her face as if summoned. "You remember then? You may be assured that I have not forgot."

"I see I will have to make an effort to increase your estimation of me, then, cousin."

Anna turned to leave with Elinor, a smile still on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Meanwhile, Miss Isobel Darcy was on her way to Bath, with all the appearance of a nonchalant, seasoned traveller. In fact, although she had been to London and to Hertfordshire before, that had only ever been in the company of her parents or her brother, and as she told her maid, it gave her a wonderful sense of adulthood to finally travel on her own. "And for heavens' sake, it is about time!" she exclaimed, quite shocking poor Lucy. "Why, I am two and twenty, and I am sure I am just about on the shelf! That gives me sufficient justification to be travelling alone, does it not?"

"Well, miss, I suppose so," said Lucy in a small voice.

"Precisely!" said Isobel. She leaned forward again, and looked out the window, wide awake and with the firm gaze she was known for. "All the same, there comes a point where travelling simply becomes a bore. Have you any idea of how long it will be until the next inn? I am wasting away."

"I'm sorry, miss, I heard Sam Coachman say that this leg of the journey would be several hours without stop."

Isobel flopped back on her seat. "Well, there is nothing to be done. I will have to get out the basket Mama packed for me. It was very amiable of her to do it, I am sure, but it is so much more independent to buy meals on one's own. However, there is nothing for it."

She leant across and opened the basket, pulling out one apple, and handing another to her maid. Lucy soon fell asleep again, but Isobel ate her apple and watched the countryside go past. Tomorrow, she would be in Bath, she thought, very satisfied with her lot.

----------------------------------

It was late afternoon when Isobel stepped calmly out of the coach and into her friend Mrs Sally Eathorne's arms. "Dear Sally!" she said affectionately. "I'm so happy to be here!"

"Well, so am I!" said Sally. She was a little blonde thing with shrewd blue eyes, dressed in the height of fashion. "Do you like my dress? My husband paid the bill for it today, and he is still in a sulk, are you not, my dear?"

The tall man who stepped forward to shake Isobel's hand did not seem to her to be in any way sulking. He was a little older than his wife than was normal, but on Isobel's careful consideration he seemed to be exactly right for her. "Good afternoon, Miss Darcy," he said with a cheerful grin, and looked fondly at his wife. "But doesn't the sight of her make up for it?"

She smiled, pleased with him. "It certainly does, Mr Eathorne. I am very pleased to meet you."

"And I you. I assure you, we are most happy to have you stay, I especially, as now there will be someone to distract my silly wife and keep her happy while I am occupied with business."

"Now, you must come in, Isobel," bustled Sally, ignoring her husband's not-so-flattering description of her. Isobel supposed there must be much raillery between them. "I haven't been the mistress of a house for long, but I know that in these circumstances I should comment on your inevitable weariness, and conduct you to your room, and offer you a hot brick for your feet, and I know not what else."

Isobel laughed. "Sally, you have not changed one bit." She followed her host and hostess up the steps, jubilant about the coming weeks.

-------------------------------

"How are my cousins Ernest and Isobel?" enquired Anna of Elinor, trying not to stare around her as they ascended the magnificent staircase.

"Isobel left this morning, actually," smiled Elinor. "She is going to Bath to stay with a friend. Ernest is in town, but he writes to us a lot, and I think he will come home for the summer soon."

Anna looked closely at her cousin for a moment. "Are you smiling because of that silly infatuation I had with your brother when I was small?" She could not stop her lips curving into a grin.

Elinor laughed. "I confess it had not escaped my memory!"

"Well, you needn't worry about any designs I may still harbour on him! I am rather embarrassed that anyone should remember such a foolish thing! How amusing. I hope cousin Ernest does not remember?"

"Oh, I'm sure he has forgotten," said Elinor. "A large number of small girls have fallen in love with him over the years!"

"What a lowering thought," laughed Anna. It was so pleasing to find her cousin just as welcoming and friendly as she had hoped.

They came to a long hallway, and Elinor came to a halt outside a large door. "This is to be your room, cousin Anna. I am your neighbour, just along there." She opened the door, and both girls entered.

Anna could hardly believe she had been given so lavish a room. It was almost as big as their whole lower floor in Bristol, and had a large four poster bed in the centre. The walls were a pale green hue, and the ceiling an ornate masterpiece, and on the floor was a rich carpet. There were wax candles liberally placed throughout the whole room; Anna did some rapid arithmetic and calculated that she had been provided with _fifteen_ wax candles to brighten her evenings. The extravagance of this astounded her, and although she had not precisely expected to be led to a humble boxroom, provided with a mere camp bed and perhaps one stool, she could not in her wildest dreams have imagined half as much elegance. It was not simply elegant, either; she saw three vases of flowers placed strategically around the room, and was touched by the kindness that must have motivated them.

"Oh, cousin Elinor—what a beautiful room, and the flowers—what lovely—I almost cannot believe—"

Elinor smiled, but it was anxiously that she hoped the room was to her cousin's liking.

"How could you doubt it?" asked Anna, astonished. "It is so lovely!"

"Yes, but sometimes the fireplace smokes, and yours and my bedrooms are not the most conveniently placed, but Mama thought you should like it better to be nearby me, but if you should prefer a different room, that could so easily be arranged—"

Anna squeezed her cousin's hand, and said warmly, "Elinor, do not make me change rooms, for I am already excessively attached to this one! To think that I should be going to sleep tonight in that utterly disproportionate bed! Why, I could be swallowed up whole. No, it does not suit my notions of personal grandeur to shift rooms at all."

Elinor burst into laughter. "Well, I must tell you that in the Red Suite, there is a bed almost _double_ that size, in which Queen Elizabeth is said to have slept, and in which my great-great-grandfather died—perhaps you would prefer that one?"

Anna's eyes opened a little wider, but she had to laugh. "Thank you, Elinor, but I think this chamber will suit me perfectly."

Elinor opened the door. "I am glad to hear of it. Now, I will send a maid to help you unpack, and meanwhile I shall be next door, if you need me. Dinner is at six o'clock; I hope that is not too early for you?"

"No, not at all."

"Very well, then."

--------------------------------

Anna and Oliver were both pleased that dinner was not served in the official dining room but an adjoining room that was of a smaller and more comfortable size. It was still a large table, and there were two footmen present, but having been shown the larger room, they could not help but draw a sigh of relief at the sight of the relatively snug family dining room.

It was a merry evening; Oliver ate as if he had starved all his life before coming to Pemberley, and Anna felt as if a smile was permanently affixed on her face as she sat at dinner with a family who laughed and joked and was friendly to each other without being in the least part crude or sulky. Aunt Elizabeth was a kind mother, and an especially kind aunt on this, their first evening at Pemberley. Mr Darcy unbent still more at table with his family around him.

Anna sat next to Christopher and opposite Elinor. It was a comfortable arrangement as Christopher exerted himself to the utmost in order to amuse her while Elinor whispered instructions whenever Anna looked down, confused by the number of forks or an unfamiliar dish. The women withdrew to the sitting room and were followed soon after by the men. Elinor was called on to play the pianoforte and Anna found herself being asked to sing. Although Anna had always sung rather well, she was discomfited by the request. Surely a family that had grown up with all the best opportunities in instruction must be superior to any of her efforts in music. And she had already heard how excellently Elinor played; her cousin's little fingers soared across the keyboard as if playing came as naturally to her as smiling. But when she was finally persuaded by Aunt Elizabeth's sensible suggestion of singing a duet with Elinor instead of a solo, she found herself relaxing and singing as well as she possibly could, encouraged by the superiority of Elinor's playing. Besides, even she could recognise how well matched her voice was with Elinor's.

Oliver, of course, was barely listening to his sister and cousin singing. He and John were engaged in an intense game of chess.

Christopher, on the other hand, wandered up to the pianoforte as they finished. "Cousin Anna, that was delightful," he said, and paused.

Anna was startled by the sincerity in his voice. "Why, thank you, cousin Christopher. I – I was well assisted by your sister's talent, of course."

Elinor disclaimed. "No, Anna, you have a beautiful voice, it's true. Did you ever have lessons?"

Anna looked away slightly. "No… we could not afford lessons. At least, Mama did not think them necessary."

"I am glad you did not have them," said Christopher promptly, though untruthfully, motivated by a chivalrous feeling unknown to him previously.

Elinor laughed. "Why on earth?"

Christopher turned to face his sister with a smile. "Why? How can you ask me that, Elinor? Do not you remember our Miss Plum?"

"Yes, and that does not elucidate the matter any further, Christopher. Miss Plum was wonderful."

"That's right—and unique. In my experience outside our home, singing teachers only spoil their students. They teach them to expand either beyond their possibilities, and the result is dreadful, or they teach them to worry so much about each single note that their students are afraid to attempt perfection and never sing again."

Elinor gave Anna an expressive smile. "My brother is in an odd mood tonight, cousin Anna. I must apologise for him."

"No!" said Christopher, smiling only out of duty and addressing himself again to his cousin with an urgent tone in his voice. "I mean it as a compliment, cousin Anna. Your voice is so delightful as it is that I fear most teachers could only _attempt_ to improve on it and in so doing would make you so worried about subtle nuances that you held yourself back and sang to only half your ability."

Anna blushed. "Thank you, cousin Christopher. I think you flatter me, but I will accept your compliment."

Christopher smiled more warmly. "There. _We_ understand each other, Elinor."

But Elinor was not looking at him, smiling into her music as if too amused to betray the source of her thoughts. And as she said goodnight later to Anna, in the hallway outside their bedrooms, she felt like saying, "I have never seen my brother so gallant." She generously refrained.


End file.
